


Catch

by dunedinparsley



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Claustrophobia, M/M, Modern AU, University AU, gratuitous and utter fluff, love at first panic attack?, that's all there is but for a pinch of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2018-12-15 06:58:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11800833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunedinparsley/pseuds/dunedinparsley
Summary: There is only one express bus to university. There are several thousand students trying to get to university. Roxas is claustrophobic. This is something of an issue.A day late for AkuRoku day, as per tradition.Content warnings: claustrophobia related panic attacks, side effects of medication, swearing.Please note the psychological and psychiatric information in this are based on personal experience followed up by fact checking, but they are not coming directly from a professional source.





	1. Part 1

The E32 bus was not only late, but all thirty E32s due between eight and eight thirty were late. The ‘line’ had turned to six lines that spread half-way down the main street. The few people catching the E37 or E52 were both loathed and adored as their buses came and went, not packed to oblivion. Roxas was easy to shoulder past, and somehow had ended up in the very middle of the crowd, people around him from directions he didn’t even realise _existed_. He clutched onto his coffee as if it were a shield. He didn’t have enough room to even check his watch, but he was quite sure that he was going to miss his tutorial.  
  
It was a flock motion, and he was swept onto the bus. Everyone was silent. His back was pressed against someone about his height, whose breath was uncomfortably hot, and an incredibly tall man was bracing himself with his hands on the wall over Roxas’s head. His shirt was an obnoxious blue and he stunk of deoderant. Roxas tried to bring his last lecture to mind and recite it to himself, but his memory wasn’t that great. He just wanted to focus on something. Deoderant man was humming under his breath. Roxas only knew half the songs but he found it comforting all the same – something to focus on.  
  
The bus was moving in jolts and starts. He couldn’t see out a window, but he was sure they hadn’t moved more than a few kilometres. It was getting hot, certainly not helped by the amount of people. He closed his eyes and tried to block out everything. He was going to be _so_ late. The person behind him had their hands on his waist, probably just to keep themselves steady, but he was fighting the urge to hit them.  
  
Grumbles were growing at the front of the bus, aggravated young adults bouncing on the balls of their feet.  
  
“Alright, quiet down!” That must have been the bus driver. Roxas couldn’t see him, but there was a certain begrudging authority to his voice. “There’s a traffic jam. There is nothing I can do about that, so stop moaning.”  
  
“Can’t you let us off, then?” someone from the back shouted.  
  
“Kid, that’s illegal.” When more people started shouting the driver erred to the caution of silence.  
  
Roxas was shaking. It was getting hotter and hotter, and deoderant man and hands-on-waist person both smelled and breathed and made noise and they were far, far too close to him. His throat was catching on the too-thick air.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my god.”  
  
Someone’s hands were still on his waist, but there were hands on his shoulders, shaking him, too. “Hey. Hey, you alright?” It was deoderant man. Maybe. His head was spinning. “Didn’t catch that, sorry.” He didn’t think he’d spoken. Deoderant man shook him fiercely.  
  
“Do you think I’m fucking alright?” Roxas felt like his ribs were trying to pounce out of his flesh. He shouldered off deoderant man, and in the process elbowed the person behind him, who swore viciously at him. He tried to reach his own face, cover his nose or his eyes or his mouth or _something_.  
  
Deoderant man was trying to lean down, but people were swearing at him, too. Instead he just gripped Roxas’s shoulder. His grip hurt. “Seriously, you okay?” Roxas forced his eyes open, looked up as far as he could-- god, his throat _ached_ , he was going to throw up, but he needed to make the man _understand--_  
  
“I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t _\--_ ”  
  
“Hey. Hey, you can breathe. You’re breathing.” The man dug his nails into Roxas’s shoulder. His lungs burned. “Feel that? That’s my hand on your shoulder, can you feel it?” Roxas couldn’t do anything. His chest was moving, but he only knew that because he could hear the fabric of his shirt on that of his scarf, it was so _hot--_ “Can you all open the windows?” deoderant man yelled. “Okay, hey. Look at me. Look at me!” He was shaking. No, deoderant man was _forcibly_ shaking him. He hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes until the man touched the space between them. They weren’t quite on eye level, but it was something. There was a little more space between their torsos. “You’re having a panic attack. I want you to count after me, okay? Out loud. Not in your head.”  
  
Roxas tried to say his throat wasn’t working, but the man was already counting. “Thirteen. Eight. Nine. Twenty-one. Seven. Twelve. Three. Ten. One hundred and three. One.” He stumbled over his tongue trying to keep up, and the man kept counting. Roxas could hear other people, too, but just as a blur. He was pretty sure the bus started moving again. The man kept counting. Roxas’s eyes watered, they’d been open for so long.  
  
“I’m gonna be a prick and push some people so we’re closer to the door, alright?” Roxas didn’t know how to respond, so just went along with the man pushing him around, past people. “As soon as you get out you’re going to want to throw up. Don’t fight it, or you actually _will_ throw up.” His words were murmured on Roxas’s ear, accompanied by a sharp nail digging into his shoulder. He seemed to know Roxas wouldn’t understand otherwise.He almost lifted Roxas off the bus, quickly getting him from the pavement almost up tothe fence. Roxas doubled over. He wasn’t quite sure why, as he felt cold, piercing air in his lungs, his eyes closed, he could feel his ribs recede into place.

Deoderant man was shielding him from prying eyes. “There we go.”  
  
Roxas could taste bile in his mouth, but he was breathing again. He looked up at deoderant man. He had a face made for war. His eyes were locked on Roxas, but he had no ‘expression’, just a slight turn of the corner of his mouth. Roxas looked away. “What time is it?” he asked.  
  
“Not even a ‘thanks’? Wow.” His voice was low, thick with laughter. He checked his watch. “Kidding. It’s… eleven past twelve.” He ran a hand back through his hair.  
  
Roxas could feel his pulse in his throat. “Fuck.”  
  
“I think everyone has missed their classes, man, not just you.” He looked up at the man, and forced himself to keep eye contact. Guilt and shame hit him at the same time.  
  
“Sorry about… this,” he mumbled.  
  
“All good.” The man sounded sincere. He offered his hand. “I’m Axel.” Roxas shook it, trying to smile.  
  
“Roxas.”  
  
Axel grinned, and Roxas went a little weak at the knees. “You good now?” His teeth glinted as he spoke. Roxas ducked his head, feeling a blush spread up from his chest to the tips of his ears.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Axel nodded. “I’ll see you around then, yeah?”  
  
Roxas tried to smile. “Yeah.” He looked at Axel’s nose rather than his eyes. “Thanks.” Axel winked with a two-fingered salute, and crossed the road whistling. Roxas sat down on the pavement with his legs crossed under him, and ignored anyone who stared. He kept hitting redial until his brother picked up. “Sora, can you come get me?”  
  
He slept for the rest of the day.

* * *

  
It was only a week before he saw deoderant man again. He’d wanted to look him up on Facebook or _something_ , but he’d forgotten his name within minutes of finding it out. Still, ‘deoderant man’ would do.  
  
He’d managed to get a seat, which was a miracle in its own right, and the bus was moving steadily. A voice from behind him said his name. He turned in his seat, had to search for a moment before seeing deoderant man. He was a few rows back, standing, his arm around a metal beam.  
  
Roxas felt his cheeks get hot. “Alex, yeah?”  
  
The man clenched his teeth and rolled his eyes. “Axel, actually. Easy mistake.” Axel gave him a half-smile.  
  
“Sorry.”  
  
“All good.” He pushed a few rows through, just enough so he wouldn’t have to shout. “You have any panic attacks recently?” Roxas tried not to show his shame. The man didn’t seem to be judging him, but he felt naked in a bus full of people.  
  
“No. That… that was just a bad day. Haven’t had one since.”

Axel hummed, and it sounded commiseratory. “I thought I was gonna go mad in there, to be honest. I swear to god, if the uni says it’s the transport departments responsibility or vice versa one more time I’m going to punch someone.” Roxas smiled – or more, his expression shifted just enough to imply a smile. Axel’s eyes were the most brilliant green he’d ever seen. “What are you studying?”  
  
“Media and comp-sci dual degree. You?” With Axel leaning forward Roxas could examine him like he hadn’t before. He had a long, sharp face, only accentuated by the absolute absurdity of what he was wearing. Roxas didn’t know fashion, but he didn’t think that leather and lace were supposed to go together like that. He only just zoned in enough to hear Axel say,  
  
“Psychological sciences and law.” Roxas tried to imagine Axel in a courtroom, and while he didn’t have much experience with law, all he could see was the man in a velvet suit, and the image wasn’t quite cohesive.  
  
“That sounds like a dangerous mix,” he said, adding psychology to the image.  
  
“A useful one,” Axel corrected. He tapped the tip of his own nose with a fingertip, the nail painted purple.

  
“Useful for you, sure. Get back to the rest of us when you’ve… taken over the world.”  
  
Axel laughed. “Too much fuckin’ _work_ , Roxas. I can barely run my own life, let alone everyone else’s. Anyway, like media and comp-sci are a morally neutral mix.”  
  
“I’ll give you the heads-up before we infect your brain with viruses.”  
  
Axel clutched a hand to his chest. “Sweet of you,” he said, deadpan. Roxas didn’t quite know what to say, though he was pretty sure it was his ‘turn’ in conversation. Axel didn’t seem fussed. He was tapping his tongue ring - oh god he had a tongue ring – against his teeth.  
  
“What was the… numbers thing you did?” Roxas asked tentatively.  
  
Axel raised an eyebrow. “The counting out loud?” He nodded. “Oh. Well. You gotta actually speak, not be stuck in your head, ‘cause you’re engaging more aspects of your brain, and the verbal helps you focus. If it were _in_ order you could do it by route. The way we learn numbers means that we may as well not be thinking when we count in order. Counting out of order is unnatural – it needs the type of focus that your brain is pulling into the panic – it’s almost panic in itself.” He rolled his shoulders back and shoved his palm flat over a poster on the window, not even looking at it. “So, why do I care about this poster, media kid?”  
  
Roxas only glanced at it before snorting. “Because it’s so horrible you can’t take your eyes off it.”  
  
“Nicely done, it _was_ a trick question.” Axel was ignoring someone who was very obviously trying to push past him, leaning against the pole as it were an actually comfortable situation. “Which year are you in?”  
  
“Second. You?”  
  
“Fourth.”  
  
“Last year?”  
  
Axel groaned. “Fuck no. Dual law and psych is five years minimum.”  
  
“Ouch.”  
  
“This guy Zexion is doing law-medicine. Nine years. ‘Why’, I have no idea.”  
  
“I know Zexion. He wants to run the health system, yeah?”  
  
“And I don’t doubt that he’ll do it.” Roxas started to speak, but Axel spoke over him easily. “Do you usually get panic attacks like that?” Agitation flushed through him, and he pushed his hair back.  
“I’m claustrophobic. It was hot. Lots of people. I mean… I’ve got a tendency but it’s not like, a thing.”  
  
“Not attacking you, man. Just wondered.” Roxas scowled. It wasn’t a hard thing for him to do, but he still put thought into it. His heart rate had gone up just thinking about that panic attack. “Are you mainly upper or lower campus?” Axel asked.  
  
“Lower.”  
  
“Looking up at the nobility. It’s the Feudal system all over again, honestly. Put a sword on the upper campus sygil and it wouldn’t surprise anyone.” Axel didn’t seem committed to discussing his panic attack, and the way he smiled calmed Roxas. It wasn’t _fair_ , having that kind of sway over him.  
  
“People on lower campus are more pissed off,” he said, and Axel hummed if it were a topic that deserved its own faculty.  
  
“Only sometimes. I did go into a bathroom in Psych wearing a skirt last week and got shouted at, but that’s an exception.”  
  
“Oh. Are you… transgender or… anything?” Roxas would have winced if he were more expressive, but all the same he looked down at his hands.  
  
“Nah. I’m queer, not trans. I just really like skirts.” Axel paused and looked out the window. “You? I’ve been calling you ‘man’ this whole time.”  
  
“No. I’m gay,” Roxas said. The bus came to a jolting stop. It wasn’t a natural statement, but Axel still nodded.  
  
“Cool. My stop.”  
  
“This is upper campus. I thought you said--”  
  
Axel shook his head and pulled his travel card out from the front of his shirt, speaking over the rustle of people getting off. “Law’s up top. I’ll bring you down some classism when I’m back at Psych, if you want.” He said it salaciously, eyes bright. Roxas shook his head and smiled.  
  
“I’m set, thanks.” Axel winked and tapped himself off the bus, and Roxas saw that he was wearing a black skirt. He hid his face in his hands, he was smiling so broadly.

* * *

“Ever considered taking a different bus?” Axel’s voice was a welcome change. The lines were full and everyone was angry and it was humid. Axel’s hand on his back, just for a moment, was a distraction.  
  
Roxas didn’t look at him, just pointed his thumb back at his apartment building. “I live right there. I’m too lazy to go anywhere else.”  
  
Axel chuckled. “Fair.” There was silence, for a little while, as the line moved along to the eighteenth E32 of the morning.“So tell me about yourself, Roxas.”  
  
He bit the inside of his lip. “I… what do you want to know?”  
  
Axel didn’t pause before asking, “Why are you scowling all the time?”  
  
Roxas fought a smile. “I have a twin brother who I’ve been told is--” He coughed and put on a sweet falsetto. “--’the human version of sunlight’. Gotta differentiate myself somehow.”  
  
“Does--?” Axel cut himself off as another bus pulled up. He put an arm behind Roxas as they got onto the bus, and it was just enough to make sure that they were both close to a window – no seats, but a window was something. “Does he go here?” he asked.  
  
Roxas tried to keep his eyes up, whether that be looking at Axel or out the window. He clung to the metal pole, trying to keep himself stable. “Yeah. Sora’s doing social work and politics, second year.”  
  
“He’s in the student council, isn’t he?”  
  
Someone’s back was flat against his. He took far too long to reply, trying to keep his eyes and his brain on the window. “Yeah.” Axel put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Hey, it’s alright.” Roxas didn’t want to cry because a stranger was being kind to him, but his eyes stung anyway. “Um… okay, switch.” Axel rotated them carefully so that Roxas was closer to the window. “You sure this isn’t a frequent occurrence?”  
  
“Get your psychology degree away from me.” Roxas didn’t want to look at Axel or even remember he existed. He wanted to get to uni and get his shit done and graduate and get a job and eat cake and die in his sleep, and he was sure that wasn’t a tall order.  
  
“If you’re this claustrophobic how do you cope with travelling around campus?” Axel asked it as if he were asking about the weather (grey, dull, humid), but Roxas would have been squirming if he weren’t forcing himself into stillness.  
  
“I have great muscle tone,” he deadpanned. Axel paused for a moment, confused, then made a wounded noise. His hands jerked as if to clutch his thighs. “No elevators.” Axel made the wounded noise again. Roxas felt satisfied that he’d gotten _some_ sort of reaction out of him. “I’m fine, dude, you can chill.”  
  
Axel raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “’Dude’ and ‘chill’ in one sentence, your pride must be aching.” Roxas would have happily smacked him. “Roxas. It’s all good. It’ll be cooling down soon, anyway.” He glanced out the window, where rain was beginning to drizzle down. “That’ll help, yeah?”  
  
Roxas sighed. “Yeah.”  
  
“I am _so_ not looking forward to Winter.” When he wrinkled up his nose it was almost comedic, the difference in his face. He looked young and petulant, which, Roxas supposed, he was. He gaped at Axel.  
  
“It doesn’t even get cold here!” Axel, in turn, gaped at Roxas.  
  
“Fuck you, man! I _freeze_ in Winter.”  
  
There was a collective shout as the bus jolted and stopped. They waited until the very end before getting off. Roxas elbowed Axel in the side, seeing him shiver.  
  
“Weakling,” he said. Axel elbowed back, but he was chuckling. They walked to the Law building together, and it was only when Axel was inside and he was outside that he realised he was on the wrong end of campus.  
  
“Roxas?” He swore under his breath. “What are you doing here?” Sora stood mid-way down the steps. He was already bundled up in scarves and gloves and a fluffy jumper, and Roxas wondered on how dissimilar they must look, with him in just a t-shirt.  
  
“I...” Sora skipped down to his side. “I walked with a friend,” he said at last.  
  
Sora’s eyes widened. “A friend? Who?”  
  
“You don’t have to sound so shocked!”  
  
“But I am!” Sora put an arm around his shoulders. “And you still owe me a coffee from last time,” he stage-whispered in Roxas’s ear.  
  
“Some of us have lectures, you know.”  
  
“In twenty minutes!” Roxas sighed and went along with Sora steering him to the nearest coffee shop.

* * *

If Roxas were ever to kill someone, it would be the person who decided eight am lectures were a good idea. There was only just enough room on the bus for him to keep drinking his coffee. “Morning, sunshine!” He yelped, coffee splashing over his cheek. Axel was pressed up against his back, right against the door.  
  
“Fuck you,” Roxas said, not even looking at him. Axel cackled. Roxas wouldn’t admit that he appreciated the support of Axel behind him.

* * *

Axel looked smaller in the library. He was hunched over an exercise book, chewing on a pencil and shoving books around on the table. His hair was tied up into a bun, and he kept blowing his fringe off his face. Roxas placed his laptop and books down carefully. Axel didn’t acknowledge him, so he set himself the task of finishing an assignment that he should have finished days before. With his earphones in he stopped thinking about the man next to him. He was lucky to be living with his parents’ financial support. He didn’t need to work to have a house and food and hundred dollar textbooks. He was still exhausted. He had no idea how people worked _and_ studied.  
  
He was midyawn when Axel took his headphones off and prodded his shoulder. “Can I borrow your pen?” Roxas fumbled with his pencil case, still yawning. Axel gave him a sleepy smile. “Thanks.”  
  
He looked down at his watch. It was already seven. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes. It was eight by the time he was done. It was nine when Axel acknowledged his ‘goodnight’ with a quiet hum and a wave.

* * *

Vindictiveness flooded through Roxas as he saw Axel the next morning. “Morning, sunshine!” He echoed Axel’s words from days before, and sure enough, Axel’s scowl was accompanied by saying,  
  
“Fuck you.” Roxas realised he must usually wear makeup. His skin looked blotchier, eyes smaller and eye-bags deeper. He was cuddling himself into his jacket and scarves, and Roxas had the odd urge to offer him his own scarf. He didn’t, but he didn’t pull himself away on the bus. He wasn’t sure how warm he was, but body heat was sure to be something. Axel was reading a textbook on his phone. He was still dressed impeccably – if ‘impeccably’ was synonymous to ‘absurdly’. A black trench-coat lined with something soft-looking over a bright red shirt and metallic pants. Roxas wanted to know the story of his clothes, of his hair. He pinched himself. Still, his insides melted a little when Axel smiled at him.

* * *

It was Monday. The only day Roxas was sure they’d both be in line. He watched Axel weave his way through the crowds (being sworn at visciously in the process) to stand next to him. He didn’t _look_ at Roxas, just asked, “When are your exams?”  
  
“None this semester.”  
  
Axel gaped down at him. “Fuck you. Oh my god!” Roxas tried not to smile.  
  
“Have you slept once in the past week?” he asked. Axel bumped their shoulders together. Or more, he bumped his torso into Roxas’s torso.  
  
“No. Don’t rub it in.” Roxas handed him the second cup of coffee. He tried not to let his hand shake.  
  
“Double shot.” Axel’s fingers crossed over his for just a second. He was smiling, a soft thing, no teeth or harsh angles. He had dimples. He clutched the coffee to his chest.  
  
“I’m so glad you have panic attacks, because it’s led up to this moment.” The smile turned to a smirk, and Roxas elbowed him.  
  
Their bus pulled up. “Arsehole.” Axel laughed as he drank, spluttering on the heat.  
  
“Good riddance!” There were a few moments silence as they got onto the bus. Axel used his size to push Roxas into a window seat. He only just managed to claim the seat next to him.  
  
“I’ll have to clean my scarf.” Roxas hadn’t noticed it before. It was a deep green, embroidered with the galaxy. Axel wiped it off on his jeans – quite the feat, considering the disproportionate mess of his limbs.  
  
“Good fucking riddance,” he repeated. “Where did you even get that thing?” Axel proceeded to sing the entire first verse of Macklemore’s ‘Thrift Shop’. Roxas shook his head in amazement. “That was _the_ most outdated pop culture reference you could have made.”  
  
“Well excuse me, the subject matter is sort of limiting.” His scowl was a sweet thing, but he hid it behind his coffee.  
  
“We’re not even American,” whined Roxas. “We don’t call them ‘thrift shops’.” The bus lurched, and Axel grabbed onto Roxas’s shoulder to stop himself falling.  
  
“Your standards are too high,” he said. He let go.  
  
“Clearly.”  
  
“How are your panic attacks going?” Axel asked, and Roxas had the horrible feeling that he’d been waiting to ask the question. He didn’t like feeling like a test subject.  
  
“Fine. They only happen when I’m in small spaces or… can’t breathe.” He didn’t know what else he was supposed to say. “I’ve been counting. Problem is I keep falling into an order.” It _was_ true, but he cared far more for any discussion that _wasn’t_ about his panic attacks.  
  
“Having another person helps.” Axel squirmed. He pulled his travel card out from his belt, and glanced at Roxas. He tucked a piece of paper into the front of Roxas’s shirt. “I dunno how frequent they are, but… call me or something. If you want.” Before Roxas could respond, he was on his feet. “Gotta go! See you.” Written in a barely-controlled scrawl was a mobile phone number, next to the name ‘Axel Garland’. Roxas tucked it into his phone case with a smile that hurt.

* * *

  
To Axel  
thanks. :)  
  
To Axel  
i like your scarf  
  
From Axel  
you’re just jealous that i’m not freezing in this hell  
  
To Axel  
yeah you’re a weakling.  
  
From Axel  
you’re literally asleep in the law library. you’re not even in this faculty, loser.

To Axel  
why didn’t you wake me up?  
  
From Axel  
never deprive anyone of sleep. that’s the only true sin.

To Axel  
good to know.

* * *

Axel took his cup from him and drank – Roxas counted six full seconds. He passed it back to him with a raised eyebrow. “Is this how your weight equalises? Drinking sugar cream everyday but also not using elevators?”  
  
“Yeah, pretty much.”  
  
Axel used the window as a table for taking notes. Roxas napped.

* * *

“Fucking fuck it’s cold,” Axel announced as he jumped onto the bus. It was less crowded than usual, and both of them managed to get seats. He shoved a styrofoam cup into Roxas’s hand.“I asked for sugar, cream, and as strong as possible, so I figure it’s right.” Roxas wordlessly tugged his scarf off and wrapped it around Axel’s neck, andshoved his beanie onto Axel’s head. He held back his giggling at the look on Axel’s face by drinking, leaving his lips on the edge of the mug as Axel worked his hair in under the hat. “It’s right?” Axel asked, and for a second he looked nervous.

Roxas tucked a stray strand of hair into the beanie. “Yeah. Thanks.” He let his hand stay, just for a second.

* * *

“Where were you?” Axel mumbled over his coffee two days later. Roxas shifted uncomfortably.  
  
“I got my brother to give me a lift.” He was backed into a pole, people on every side. Axel put an arm behind his head. At least he was familiar. He didn’t smell so strongly of deoderant any more.  
  
“Oh.” He turned the six rings on his left hand into some odd, colour coordinated order. “I drank your coffee.”  
  
Roxas didn’t succumb to guilt easily, what with Sora as a brother, but he felt it then. He played with his watch. It was set to British time, and he couldn’t for the life of him remember why. “Sorry. I didn’t want...” He gestured as well as he could around them, eyes still down.  
  
“Yeah, of course.” Axel’s arm was tickling the back of his neck. “Do you know why?” Before Roxas could ask he said, “Why you have panic attacks.”  
  
“No. I never liked small spaces, it’s just gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. I’ve got an appointment with a doctor,” he snapped before Axel could say anything else. “How… did you get your results for that assignment back?”  
  
Axel busied himself with tying his hair back. “Yeah. Credit.”  
  
“That’s good!”  
  
“It’s a credit,” Axel said, dryly. “It’ll do. I don’t care if I get through with just passes, I just… need to get through.”  
  
“What do you want to do once you’re done studying?”  
  
Axel sighed and leaned in closer. He was boxing Roxas in, whether he knew it or not. He looked exhausted. “Criminal law. But I want… d’you know how high the rates of injustice are? False convictions?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Neither do I. Because it’s not countable. Because it’s so entrenched in our legal system. I want to be able to see how… people in the criminal system tick. How we get to our conclusions, deliberately or accidentally, maliciously or incidentally.”  
  
“That’s… incredibly cool.”  
  
Roxas decided that his mission in life was to make Axel smile in the way that made his dimples show. “Yeah, it is.” Axel brushed his hand over Roxas’s shoulder as he got off the bus. “See ya later, Roxas.”

* * *

Very few of the books Roxas needed were in the Law library, and he was sure that the staff were sick of him setting the alarms off with the main library’s books, but he was persistent. He rolled his shoulders back, head tilted. Axel came in and made a beeline towards him. His hair was falling free of a beanie, peacoat on over a hoodie, tired scowl on his face. “What have you got now?” he asked.  
  
Roxas started packing his books up. “Two hours off.”  
  
“Want to get lunch?”  
  
Roxas nodded and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah. Yeah, cool.” Axel looked relieved. They fell into step easily, although Roxas had to take two steps for every one of Axel’s. He was shivering, and Roxas wanted to put an arm around him. He didn’t, just let himself be guided to the nearest cafe. Axel chose the table closest to the heater.  
  
Once he had drunk two cups of coffee he seemed happier, joking again and poking fun at Roxas. He was just relieved to see that the ‘down’ was fixable by caffeine and pasta and not something worse. He was still pissed off that all Roxas ate was a salad, a ‘fucking _cold_ salad!’.  
  
“So, what do you want to do?” he asked after a few moment’s silence. “Career wise?”  
  
Roxas looked down at his hands, at his ink-coated knuckles. Axel’s hands, on the other side of the table, were ink-stained too, but his knuckles were red, fingers long and graceful things. “I… don’t know. I guess… social media work is the obvious.” He squirmed, tried to speak confidently. “The algorithms and analysis that go into like, what’s trending. Stuff like that.”

“Doesn’t sound like it interests you much. What do you really want to be?”  
  
“A rock star,” Roxas said, deadpan. He looked up to see Axel chuckle.  
  
“Serenade me, Roxas, serenade me!” he cried, clutching a hand to his chest and fluttering his eyelashes. Roxas threw a handful of sugar sachets at him.

* * *

It was one in the morning. “Axel?” His throat cracked. There was silence for a little-large while.  
  
“Hey, Rox. You okay?” Axel’s voice was scratchy with sleep, darker and rougher. Roxas pushed his sheets down and pulled his knees up to his chest.  
  
“Do panic attacks just… not stop, sometimes?” he asked. He could hear the shuffling of sheets on Axel’s end of the phone, the gentle crackle.  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, they do.” Axel sighed heavily. Roxas imagined that he could see Axel’s frown. “When’s that appointment?”  
  
“Next Tuesday.”  
  
“Okay.” He could hear Axel yawning, shuffling. His heart’s racing _hurt_. He tried to imagine what Axel’s hair looked like when he was home. “I can see the CBD out of my window,” Axel said after a moment, “and ‘cause of the light I can like, see some of the streets pretty clearly. There’s a guy doing the Macarena, shirtless.”  
  
His throat ached as he laughed. “No shit?”

Roxas _heard_ the dimples showing in Axel’s laughter. “No shit. I think his friends are filming it. I dunno what kids do these days.”  
  
“You’re still a kid.” Roxas stood, shivered as his feet hit the cold wood.  
  
“How dare you? As a twenty-two year old, I am the image of fucking maturity.”  
  
“Okay.” He felt a sick wave of nausea thread itself through him. He tried to swallow down his tears. “Do you get panic attacks?” he asked. He opened a window with one shaking hand.  
  
“Nah. I get like… bouts of depression sometimes. Not too bad. Just enough to fit my aesthetic.” Roxas got onto the tips of his toes and stuck his head out the window. He tried to steady his breathing, the cold air twisting in his lungs.  
  
“Oh yeah, skirt, scarf, and leather jacket wearing Sonic the Hedgehog,” he said, as smoothly as he could. “Depression’s great with that.”  
  
Axel made an indignant cry. “Fuck you, wannabe punk rock cherub!”  
  
He leaned against the window. “These things hurt, Axel.” They did not, in fact, hurt.  
  
“Can’t fight the truth. Oh, look, his friends have joined in the Macarena. I’m just waiting for the cops to come arrest them for fuckin’… public nuisance crimes or something.” Hot, stinging tears ran down Roxas’s cheeks. He couldn’t talk. “Are you good at maths?” Axel asked. Roxas wondered how he knew how Roxas was feeling, even in silence.  
  
“Yeah,” he choked out.  
  
“Oh, computers, yeah.”  
  
“People who are good with maths aren’t necessarily good with computers, or vice versa.”  
  
“Does that make it harder to count out of order?” Axel’s voice had stabilised, and he was pressing. It was like he was trying to steady the shake in Roxas’s tone with his own.  
  
“No. I just… end up in patterns.”  
  
“If your brain already has it down, then reverse it. It won’t work forever, but if you’re in that pattern and you can’t call me or… whatever, flip it. The work you have to put in will help.” He hated crying. Hated the plug in his throat. He tried to hum, agree, something, but he couldn’t. “I would like to note that I am not a psychologist and am not liable if you end up only talking in numbers for the rest of your life,” Axel added, a sarcastic footnote.  
  
Roxas chuckled. It hurt. The window was fogging up with tears. “Don’t worry, I won’t sue.”  
  
“Thanks.” There was silence but for the noises of the city for what felt like a long time. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t stop the tears. They were quiet for a long time. The city noises washed over him. There was a group of young people drunk below his window, singing and yelling in equal measure.  
  
“Are your eyes real?” he asked after a while. Axel snorted.  
  
“What?”

Roxas’s cheeks got hot. He was getting cold in the aftershocks of the panic attack, and struggled to find a hoodie as he spoke. “Your eyes. Eye colour,” he clarified. “Is it natural?”  
  
“Yeah. Is yours?”  
  
“Yeah.” There was a loud bang and a yell, and at first he thought it was the drunks, but when another series of groans came he realised it was on Axel’s end of the phone. “What’s that noise?”  
  
“My housemates.” Roxas took a moment to realise what he meant, and blushed. His tears had stopped, at last. He zipped up his hoodie slowly, stalling on what to say.  
  
“Ah. Fun.”  
  
“Eh, I can usually sleep through it.” There was the sound of an opening drawer, soft footsteps. Roxas felt so alone he could have screamed. Still, he said,  
  
“Why are you even awake? You should have told me to fuck off by now.”  
  
“Nah. Talking to you is good.”  
  
“Enough to put up with your roommates fucking. Wow.”  
  
“I know, right? I’m shocked.” Axel yawned again. His housemates were making more noise than Roxas thought could _possibly_ be genuine. “How did that assessment go?” Axel asked, a little louder.  
  
It took Roxas a moment to even remember. “Eighty-nine.”  
  
“HD, nice one.”  
  
“How was the psych exam?”  
  
“Results aren’t out yet. I’ll pass. That’s what matters, I guess.” Roxas could almost see the tension in Axel’s frown. He sat down on the edge of his bed. He wondered what it would be like for Axel to be sitting with him.  
  
“You’ll be good. You could’ve always written about how you became a psychologist, impromptu on a bus, bringing some guy having a panic attack back to Earth. Full marks.” He spoke as lightly as he could.  
  
“Damn, should’ve thought of that.” Axel chuckled. His housemates had shut up, at last. Silence was good, sometimes, Roxas decided. “I’m glad I met you, Roxas.” He wanted to drown in Axel’s voice and affection. He let himself fall back onto the bed. He didn’t know what to say. He never did with him.  
  
“It was bound to happen. You’re so obnoxious someone could see you on the moon, so it was just a matter of time,” he said. It was all he could think of. “You too, Axel,” he added. The words came out rushed, too high, all wrong. “Get to sleep. I’ll see you?”  
  
Axel didn’t linger, just asked, “You feeling better?”  
  
Roxas nodded – realised Axel couldn’t see him, and said, “Yeah. Thanks.”  
  
“Goodnight.”  
  
“Night.”

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of three, three months before the first one! Sorry for the wait.

Axel practically lifted Roxas onto the bus. He only managed to get one seat, but he pulled Roxas close, standing between his legs. “Stand here.” Roxas tried not to show how flustered he was. At least it was a distraction from the remnant panic. “You’re giving me body heat.” Roxas chuckled and pulled his scarf off. He wrapped it around Axel’s neck.   
  
“Weakling.”   
  
“Weakling,” Axel retorted, indicating his cup of coffee. “Dependence is a dangerous thing, Roxas.”   
  
“Oh, fuck you.”

* * *

He sat with Sora in a corner of the law library, hiding their lunch from the prying eyes of the staff. Sora was fretting about him, and he’d spilled his hot chocolate all down his pants. Roxas had tried very hard not to laugh, but Sora was still grumpy at him.   
  
He barely avoided shrieking when Axel dropped to the ground before them. “Roxas.” His muscles still clenched and he knew his eyes were wide. Axel raised an eyebrow at Sora, looked them both over. “The brother.”  
  
‘The brother’ grinned and offered his hand. “I’m Sora. You’re panic attack guy, yeah?” Roxas blushed. Axel laughed.   
  
“Love that title. Here’s your scarf, Rox.” He had tucked it through the handle of his bag, and his hands were shaking as he untied it. Roxas flicked him with a nail, tried not to let his hand linger.  
  
“Keep it. You might get hypothermia, and I won’t be responsible for that.”   
  
Axel defied all attempts at chastity and used Roxas’s hand to tie the scarf back up. His hands were freezing, fingers calloused. Roxas could see Sora shaking with laughter out of the corner of his eye. “Why _are_ you in the law library?” he asked, letting go of Roxas’s hand.  
  
“There are better books here,” Roxas said, trying to imitate the soft drawl of Axel’s speech.  
  
“And cute guys,” Sora added.  
  
“You have a girlfriend,” Roxas said before he thought.   
  
“Doesn’t matter.” The look on Sora’s face, looking at Axel, made him want to hide his face.   
  
“Did you want something?” he asked. He didn’t mean to snap, but he did. Axel had the dignity to just raise his eyebrow again.   
  
“One of my housemates has a show on tonight, and one of the others bailed. D’you want to come?”   
  
Butterflies filled him up. “I-- yeah. Yeah, that would be cool.”  
  
“Awesome. I’ll text you the details.” Axel saluted to the both of them and was gone. Roxas waited until he was gone then hid his face in Sora’s chest, which was shaking with his laughter.

* * *

Axel was braving the cold without a jumper, and swore at Roxas the moment he arrived at the bar.   
“I’ve been waiting in this fucking hell cold for you, get your arse inside.” He was scowling, but still he put a hand on the small of Roxas’s back, pulling him inside. Roxas explained he’d gotten lost. Axel kept scowling until he had a beer in hand.   
  
He explained that his housemate, Demyx, was a musician, and though the gig itself wasn’t a massive deal, he’d just been signed to a record label. The other housemates, Marluxia and Larxene, who he referred to as ‘amateur pornstars for a limited audience’, were out of the state with family, and gave their tickets to Axel.  
  
Roxas shrugged his jacket off, and used his shoulder to move it towards Axel. He tried not to smile when Axel pulled it on, and laughed at him shivering with the beer in his hands. Roxas wanted to lean on him or hold his hand or something, wanted to be close. Demyx’s arrival on stage was met with rauccous applause, and Axel’s boos seemed apparently perfectly familiar to the audience. Roxas was still a little scandalised.  
  
Demyx had a sweet, rich voice, and his guitar seemed more like an extension of his body than anything else. Roxas liked the music well enough, but really Axel’s arm around his shoulders was more important to him. They shared a bowl of chips and kept their glasses full. It was a drowsy warmth, Demyx’s jokes and lyrics alike leading to laughter into each others’ shoulders.  
  
“I’ve got to disclose,” Demyx said, several songs in, “that this next song isn’t all mine. My beautiful housemate, Axel, gave me the hook line.”   
  
Axel downed a mouthful of beer and yelled, “I’m taking your arse to court.” Demyx was wide-eyed and beautifully performative in his shock, clutching at his chest and staring at Axel.  
  
“Not the rest of me?” Roxas pressed his face into Axel’s shoulder, both of them laughing. “I mean… I changed it a bit!” Demyx was addressing the audience again. “‘I’d miss my bus so I can catch one with you’ just doesn’t have the ring of ‘I’d miss my train so I can catch one with you’. Sorry, babe.” He blew a kiss in Axel’s direction.  
  
“Fuck you,” Axel yelled back.  
  
“Love you,” Demyx said. “This is ‘Lysander’, because if all else fails, name your songs after Shakespeare characters.”   
  
Roxas’s leg tangled in with Axel’s. He could see Axel’s blush, and let himself lean in, just a little more. He listened to Demyx sing and felt his heart race.   
  
Meeting Demyx was a bizarre and lovely experience, and the wink Demyx gave him told him that Demyx knew full-well who Roxas was. Axel’s hand was hovering on Roxas’s back, even as he spoke to other people. Roxas kept his hand just brushing on Axel’s leg.   
  
He didn’t know why they didn’t kiss goodnight, but he was awake all night with butterflies anyway.

* * *

He saw the doctor on Tuesday, who prodded at him physically and emotionally and eventually referred him along to a psychiatrist – which was all he’d asked for anyway.

  
Roxas hung up on Sora as soon as his phone started buzzing with Axel’s name. There was no ‘hello’, just, “How was your appointment?”   
  
He slotted his phone in between his shoulder and ear, stirring his rice. He mulled over what to say, probably made some awful choked off noises. “I’m seeing a psychiatrist next week,” he said at last. “The GP was confused by how isolated an issue it was, but… oh well.” Axel hummed softly. “Want to diagnose me, Doctor?”   
  
He coughed, dropped his voice. “You’ve got a serious case of ‘loser’, patient of mine.” Roxas bit the inside of his lip, smiling.  
  
“Is it curable?” he asked in a high, breathy voice.  


“Not at all. You’re doomed.” Roxas could just imagine Axel shaking his head and the quirk at the right side of his lip.  
  
He let out an exaggerated sigh. “There are worse ways to die, I guess.” He poured a probably-too-liberal amount of salt into the pan.  
  
“Not really. Sorry to break it to you, but you’re absolutely fucked.”   
  
Roxas snorted. “I’m reporting you for improper behaviour.” Axel laughed – or more, cackled. They were quiet. He could hear Axel unzipping something, tossing something on the floor, rifling through a bag. He felt so natural in Axel’s life. “Am I...”   
  
Axel waited for him. The ruffling noise stopped. “What?” he asked gently. “What’s wrong?”   
  
Roxas swallowed his nerves. Or he tried. He put down the wooden spoon. “Am I only… interesting because I’m sick?” He wanted to stick his hand onto the stove and get burned so badly he’d scream and drop the phone and need to go to hospital and catch a lethal strain of pneumonia and die and not have to hear Axel’s answer.   
  
“Roxas.” Axel made his name sound as natural to him as breathing. Roxas’s breathing was too heavy, too loud. It was taking so long. “No. No, of course not.” He didn’t believe him. “I… god, I--”  
  
There was a shout so loud that Roxas could hear it on his end. “Axel! Axel, get out here!”   
  
“I’ve gotta go, it seems. I’ll text you and if you’re still awake--”  
  
“Get going,” Roxas said weakly. For once, Axel did as told.

* * *

Three days hurt. They felt lost and wrong. He hadn’t realised how integral Axel had become to his life, his day to day. The psychiatrist poked and prodded and he went along with it without protest but he felt his claustrophobia, officially diagnosed for the first time, clinging to his heart and ribs and stomach, filling him up with shame and trapping him in his own body. He ignored Sora. He ignored his urge to text Axel. He didn’t know what had happened and it was undoubtedly about him and he was stuck in the moment of wanting to end up in hospital catching a lethal strain of pneumonia and fuck Axel for not making a move and for not talking to him and for treating him like a test subject--

Monday morning. Axel paused for a moment with his arms open, a silent question. His face was bare of makeup, and his eyes were puffy. Roxas hugged him carefully, making sure not to spill his coffee. Axel looked like he might break. “You alright?” Roxas asked

Axel let him go and sighed. “I’ve got two days to move out of my house. We were all kicked out.”   
  
“Fuck. I’m so sorry.”   
  
He snorted and picked at a fraying thread of his jacket. “I’ll cope. Just… house hunting. My land-lord’s an arse.”   
  
The queue moved forward as two buses came and went. Roxas was shoved away from Axel, and promptly shoved himself back into place beside him. “You can… stay with me, if you want. If you need.”   
  
He could feel Axel looking at him. He didn’t want to look back. “Yeah?” Roxas nodded, probably a little too fervently. “Ah, fuck, man. Thank you so much.” He glanced upwards and pretended not to notice that Axel looked on the verge of tears. The redness of his eyes went brighter.   
  
“It’s alright,” he said quietly. He tugged his gloves out of his jacket pocket and shoved them into Axel’s hand. “Here.” Axel said nothing, just pulled them on. He surreptitiously wiped his eyes. “You’ve all been kicked out?” The line shuffled forward once more.   
  
“Yeah. Marly and Larx are gonna stay with her parents, Dem is crashing at his sister’s place. My family lives four hours away and I…”  
  
Roxas elbowed him in the side. “Don’t have any friends?” he asked.  
  
Axel raised one not-so-immaculate eyebrow. “Don’t have any friends I’m chill with asking to crash with.” They were at the front of the line.   
  
“Well, just let me know. I haven’t got a spare room, but the couch is comfy.” They were swept onto the bus, and Axel kept his arms bracing Roxas. They didn’t get seats, but they got a window.

  
“Thanks, man,” Axel said, words soft on his ear. Roxas used the cramped space as an excuse to put his arms around him.

* * *

Axel was sitting on the floor outside his tute room at the end of the day. He looked shattered. Roxas didn’t understand. Still, he reached down and took Axel’s hand. “If we get a cab we can pick up your stuff,” he said. He pulled Axel up. Axel ruffled his hair. He didn’t seem to have any words left. Roxas ignored his peers staring and kept an arm around him.

* * *

They got a cab to Axel’s house, but drove back to Roxas’s – much to his amazement. With stuff piled up to the roof of the car and Axel at the wheel it felt a dangerous piece of metal to be in. Demyx, Marluxia and Larxene were all irritable but they were nice enough. They each performed an odd secret handshake on Axel as he left. Demyx whispered in Roxas’s ear ‘look after him’. Roxas tried to say something, but failed. He just nodded. 

  
“So this is where the phone calls end,” Axel said. There had been silence for so long, Roxas jolted. “God, you really are right next to the bus stop.” He looked out the window, and indeed they were pulling in to the underground carpark below his apartment. He struggled to find something to say. Undoing his seat buckle shouldn’t have taken so much focus.  
  
“I still can’t believe we didn’t crash,” he said. He tried to sound casual. Axel snorted as he pulled a duffel bag out of the boot.  
  
“Thanks, Rox. I’ve only ever caused three deaths on the road!”   
  
“Only three? Wow.” He took the bags Axel passed to him and realised in a flash that Axel was coming into his house. He hadn’t cleaned or organised or put away his clean clothes – or his dirty ones, for that matter. Still, he guided the other man up the stairwell, entirely forgetting the elevator. Axel stayed – remarkably – steady-breathed until they got to Roxas’s door on the twelfth floor, when he hid his breathing behind a cough. Roxas hid his smile. He gestured around the flat a tad self-consciously. “Put your stuff wherever. Eat whatever, but if you finish the milk buy more. Um… the shower takes two minutes to heat up. The heater’s over there.” Axel promptly threw himself onto the floor and turned the heater up to full.

* * *

Roxas had finally changed out of his day clothes, and managed to not feel embarrassed by his tracksuit pants covered in cats. Axel was laid out in front of the heater on the floor, covered in blankets, laptop half a metre away from him. He stretched and the blankets fell off him. He made a disgruntled sort of noise, pulling them back. Roxas tried not to laugh as he took a photo. Axel was sweetly oblivious, tucking the blankets further around himself. 

  
“Can I post this on Facebook?” he asked. Axel barely moved, just lifted his hand in summons.   
  
“Show me.” Roxas did as told, and Axel chuckled. It was a nice picture, drowsy Autumn light filtering in through the window above. “Yeah, sure.”   
  
Roxas sat beside him, angled his phone so they could both see. “’Actual… oversized… cat’.” The caption sprung to life under his fingers, and Axel laughed with slightly open lips.   
  
“True. I forgot, how did your psych go?” He had the good taste to wince after asking, but Roxas still shrugged.  
  
“Good. I’ve been put on an anti-panic… thing.”   
  
“Show me?” he asked. Roxas stood again, went into the bathroom and tossed the box in Axel’s general direction. His cheeks got hot. He didn’t know why – Axel had seen him mid panic attack, encouraged him _to_ get treatment. He wouldn’t judge him for being medicated. “Cool. Is it working?” Roxas heard him, but didn’t quite process it. “Rox? Is it working?”   
  
“So far I’m just dizzy and cold.”   
  
“Oh great, good fun.” Axel summoned Roxas over to him and grabbed his hand, tugged him down. He made an exasperated sound, but dutifully crossed his legs under him, stared at the heater. “Are you finally suffering the cold with me, then?”   
  
Roxas groaned and tugged Axel’s blanket over his lap. “If it stops the panic attacks...” Axel rubbed his shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”   
  
“Of course you will.” Axel shuffled closer, and Roxas put an arm around him. His head fit neatly against Axel’s shoulder when they managed to get their backs against the couch. He read on his phone while Axel worked on his laptop until the last of the sunlight had drifted away. Axel was warm, ironically enough, and his jutting bones and long limbs didn’t bother Roxas like they should have. “I’ll make dinner. What are you feeling like?”   
  
“Are you a good cook?” If it sounded sceptical, he rationalised, it was because he was.   
  
Axel elbowed him. “I’m not brilliant, but I’m okay.”  
  
He stretched, arms above and behind his head. Axel’s hair tickled him. “I don’t think I’ve got much in the cupboard. It’s grocery day.” He stuck his feet out from under the blanket and automatically drew them back in. “You can be in charge if you want. Actually, I amend that – I would love for you to be in charge so I don’t have to deal with it.”   
  
“Cool. In charge I am.” There was stillness and silence for a while. Their arms were flat against each other. “I so don’t want to get up,” Axel said.   
  
“I need to pee, so when I stand and tug the blanket off you’ll probably have enough motivation to stand.” Roxas laughed as Axel gaped at him.   
  
“Cruel as _fuck_ , Roxas.” They touched hands. Roxas’s fingers fell in the gaps between Axel’s as he slowly, slowly pushed the blanket aside.  
  
“Three, two, one...” He stood with as much as a flourish as he could, yanking the blanket away so it landed on Axel’s head.  
  
A muffled “Fuck you,” came from him, but he made no move to take it off.

 

Roxas didn’t like smiling so much. It didn’t fit his face. He splashed his face with water and prodded at his cheeks. “Do you have a standard grocery list?” Axel asked. He had put on a different jumper and was wrapping Roxas’s blue scarf around his neck. “I don’t want to pack your fridge with shit you don’t eat.”   
  
“I’ll come with you, it’s cool.”   
  
“Alright.”  
  
Roxas put his shoes on without changing out of his pyjama pants, but decided that – in the end – he really didn’t care enough to try the whole thing again.

* * *

They shared a style of grocery shopping. It involved knocking things off the shelf and throwing them into the shopping cart, or grabbing something and dropping it, just to see how loud a noise it would make. Upon realising this they each picked up a litre of milk and dropped it from as high as they could into the trolley, which Roxas said gave Axel a fierce advantage. People glared at them for laughing too much. The only thing Roxas was ever careful with was cookies, and Axel tickled him when he piled six packets on top of each other. 

  
“You’re such a loser.” Roxas was on the tips of his toes trying to reach the last packet of mint chocolate chip biscuits. Axel was leaning against the parallel aisle.   
  
“You could be useful, you know,” Roxas snapped back at him, turning his head.  
  
“But this is the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”  
  
“Absolute prick.” He fumbled, almost tripped, and before he could _think_ Axel was against him, bracing him against the shelf, arms over his head. Roxas’s heart pounded and he wasn’t sure if it was the claustrophobia or the fact that he could hear Axel’s heartbeat and feel their bodies pressing together.   
  
Axel pulled away, packet of biscuits in hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to crowd you.” Roxas nodded, and didn’t say anything lest he choke.   
  
For just a second he interrupted his image of getting his shit done and graduating and getting a job and eating cake and dying in his sleep. For just a second he wanted to get married and share a messy house and plan birthday parties and fall asleep together. He knew he was so far gone he wasn’t even in sight of the day he met Axel, but it winded him. His lungs were full of different air  
  
He watched Axel, whistling as he pushed the cart, then ran to catch up.

* * *

“What was your landlord’s justification?” he asked as the checkout boy scanned two packets of eyeliner and six packets of biscuits.

  
Axel groaned and shook his head. “Apparently by Marly and Larx sharing a bedroom and turning the other bedroom into an office we broke some clause or other. I’m not a lawyer yet but that was _nowhere_ in the paperwork. We can’t fight it though because it’s a sub-let.”   
  
“That sucks, man.” Another two packets of biscuits passed through the cashier’s hands. Roxas watched them protectively. Broken biscuits served no-one well.   
  
“I’ll cope.” Axel’s hand balanced on the small of Roxas’s back as he pushed past him. He kept it there. “If I just get through this semester I can have a break and set up a new place or something.” He gave his card to the cashier. “I’ve got it,” he said to Roxas, who tried to form words in protest. “You’re letting me crash, man, it’s fine.”   
  
“Savings or credit?” the cashier drawled, with the tone of voice of a man who had been working for eight hours and had another eight to go, and really didn’t have time for them. Axel completed the transaction quickly, and Roxas, former cashier, appreciated his respect for minimum wage workers. Basic respect shouldn’t have been endearing, but Roxas figured being in love really fucked with his judgement.

* * *

Seven a.m., Axel already awake, Roxas feeling almost hung over.  
  
“Your bedhead is my favourite thing,” Axel said. His voice was always lower when he was stuck in sleep.  
  
“Fuck off.” Axel passed him a cup of coffee. His hands were shaking so badly that he almost dropped it.   
  
“Hey, hey.” Axel guided him towards a chair and took the coffee back. “You okay?” His face felt like cracking clay, mouth dry and foul. “Is this the drug?” Roxas tried to nod, but it made him too dizzy. Axel was crouching in front of him. He wasn’t moving or touching him. That was nice. “You weren’t expecting this?”   
  
“No,” he choked out.   
  
“Did you go up a dose?”

  
“Yeah.”   
  
“With… with depression and anxiety, and a lot of other psychological issues, the chemical melatonin and hence your sleep is contorted, and so mornings are… harder. And then when you start a psychotropic drug that’s just.. worsened.” Roxas nodded. He liked understanding things. It made it easier to deal with. “It’ll wear off with time.” Roxas zoned out enough that he didn’t even think when Axel made him drink two glasses of water. “Go shower,” Axel ordered. “You’ll feel better.”   
  
He sobbed on the shower floor.

* * *

He stopped feeling ashamed after four days, which was – not so coincidentally – when the adjustment effects died down a little. He and Axel worked well as housemates. Neither were fussy about tidiness, they both liked their space, they both liked sitting in silence. It also turned out they liked the same video games, which Axel swore would make him fail his degree – if he and Roxas didn’t keep tying and so they had to play again to see who would win. It was a good system of procrastination. 

  
It was an easy _routine_. Monday, Wednesday, Friday they caught the bus together at eight fifteen, Tuesday Roxas left at seven and Axel left for work as a secretarial assistant at a law firm, Thursday Roxas slept in until noon and Axel went to work. Weekends they both slept in and ended up at the library at nine at night even when the plan was nine in the morning.  
  
Axel paid the bills and Roxas paid rent. They negotiated which Thai takeout they liked best, but Axel seemed to be forever apologising by cooking dinner whenever he could. Roxas acted as an interviewee whenever he was practising for job interviews, because ‘if one more arrogant fucking prick talks down to me I’m going to combust’. Roxas’s response was to be as arrogant an interviewee as possible just to see whether Axel combusted or broke down laughing first.

* * *

“I’m dizzy. And cold.” He knew he was whining. He didn’t care. Axel tugged him close and flared his coat outwards so it surrounded both of them. He rested his chin on Roxas’s head. He looked a part of the scenery, with Autumn leaves falling around them in line under the trees.

  
“You’re so fuckin’ short, Rox.”   
  
Roxas elbowed him. “Thanks.”

* * *

Axel was sprawled in the armchair, and didn’t look up when Roxas came in. “How was your day?” he asked, eyes on his laptop.   
  
Roxas locked the door behind him, balancing his own laptop on his knee. “Yeah, good. Look at this program we just finished...” He clambered over the arms of the chair, blocking Axel’s laptop and making him snort with laughter.

* * *

  
“Chicken or tofu?” Roxas asked.  
  
Axel looked up at him so blearily that he could have been on another plane of existence. “I promised to cook,” he said, half-petulant, after a long contemplation.   
  
Roxas rolled his eyes and stroked Axel’s hair back, standing behind him. Axel leaned into his touch. “You’re half asleep, don’t be an idiot.” Slowly, he nodded. “Chicken?” Another nod. “Y’know it’ll be an hour, have a nap.” Axel was asleep before he’d even submitted the order.  


* * *

Roxas was bracing himself for the bus, glaring at himself in the mirror. “Get in, loser, we’re going shopping!” Axel called from the kitchen. He stuck his head out of his bedroom door, bewildered.  
  
“What?”   
  
Axel swung his keys around from finger to finger. “We’re going down to the basement to get in my car so we don’t have to deal with the fucking bus.” He said it as if it were obvious. Roxas’s brow furrowed.  
  
“Parking costs like, fifty bucks, man.”   
  
Axel hoisted Roxas’s bag over his shoulder and grabbed his hand. He was getting so used to being touched that he didn’t know what he’d do if it stopped. A catastrophising part of his brain said he might die. “It costs just to be parked here, don’t complain.”   
  
“Not complaining.” Axel let go of his hand locking the door, and Roxas wanted to kiss him for so long that they’d miss all of their classes.  
  
“Look, you’re letting me crash, it’s the least I can do.”   
  
“You cook and clean, you’re doing plenty.”   
  
Axel poked his nose, just enough to hurt. “Don’t complain.”   


* * *

Axel was twisting his neck around, making disgusting cracking noises and little grunts of displeasure. “You okay?” Roxas asked through a yawn, passing him a bowl of cereal (with markedly less sugar than his own).  
  
“Yeah, just… neck’s a bit sore.” Roxas resisted the urge to snort, considering how obvious it was, and instead said,  
  
“Sorry. The couch is pretty small. I’d offer you the bed, but it’s no better to be honest.”   
  
The spark in Axel’s eyes was an innuendo or something else filthy almost born, but he must swallowed it down as he said, “All good.”  



	3. Chapter 3

Incoming Call  
Declined  
Incoming Call   
Declined  
Incoming Call   
Declined

Incoming Call  
  
The tutor was glaring at him. “Either pick it up and leave my class or turn it off, Mr. Garland.”  
  
Begrudgingly, he flipped open the case, accepted the call. “Rox, hey, I’m in a tutorial but--”   
  
“The elevator broke down.”   
  
“What?” He franticly began to shove things into his bag, not even sure he’d heard correctly but sure that he needed to be there. He could distantly hear the tutor beginning another lecture on consideration for one’s peers and peers in life, but didn’t stop as he threw his bag over his shoulder.  
  
“I’m stuck in an elevator on my own, it’s not _moving_ , they say it’s gonna be at least an hour--”   
“Fuck. Fuck. Where are you?”   
  
“The Berryman building.”   
  
Axel spun on his heel, just as the elevator left, and braced himself to run. The old stairs creaked under his weight. “Okay. Okay, I’m on my way.” He could hear the hitches in Roxas’s throat even when he wasn’t talking.  
  
“I can’t breathe.”   
  
“You can breathe. I can breathe, too – hear that?” He slowed to a jog so that he could breathe, loud and steady into the mouthpiece. “Hear me?” Roxas whimpered. “We’re gonna count, okay? Repeat after me: seventeen, ninety-one, three, twelve.”   
  
“Seventeen, nine, ten--”   
  
“Seventeen, ninety-one, three, twelve.”   
  
“Seventeen, ninety-one, three, twelve.”   
  
“Eight, twelve, thirty-two, a thousand and three.”  
  
“Eight, twelve, thirty-two, a thousand and three.”   
  
“Thirteen, eight, zero, a hundred and five, two.”

“Thirteen, eight, zero, a hundred and five, two.”

“Three thousand, fifty, sixty-three, eighty-one, three.”

“Three thousand, fifty, sixty-three, eighteen--”

 

He was struggling to keep jogging while speaking, while breathing so Roxas could hear him. He could see the Berryman building, just up the hill, but couldn’t stop counting to ask which wing he was in. It didn’t matter, he rationalised, considering the very high chance that it would indeed be an hour.  
  


“Three thousand, fifty, sixty-three, eighty-one, three.”

  
“Three thousand, fifty, sixty-three, eighty-one, three.”  
  
They kept going like that for almost twenty minutes, Axel correcting Roxas’s blunders, slowly making the patterns more and more complex. Axel’s breathing got heavier as Roxas’s evened out, then steadied as he settled with his back against a wall. There was bright orange tape, and a nasty smell of heat. “I’m here, Rox,” Axel said, as gently as he could. “I’m right next to the elevator.”  
  
“I’m scared.”  
  
“You’re doing so well, Rox.” There was a loud beeping from Roxas’s end, and he shrieked. Axel could barely make it out, but still heard the crackling voice,  
  
“Hi, are you there? Press the green button and talk into the microphone below it.” Roxas must have shuffled around, static buzzing on Axel’s ear. “There are electricians working now. I’ll let you know when we know how long it will be.” The person’s voice was friendly, but detached enough that he hated it on very principle, the detachment and complacency and absolute lack of understanding.   
  
“Will the elevator go up or down when it starts moving?” Roxas asked. His voice was broken, scratched.   
  
“It’ll go straight down to the ground level.” That same detachment, the same lack of real care. A performance.  
  
“Okay.”   
  
Another beep.  
  
“I’m there now, Rox. I’ll be there.” His palm was flat on the metal, and he wondered how far up Roxas was, if he was caught between levels one and two, if the doors could be pried open.  
  
“My chest hurts. I can’t-- I can’t-- everything’s blurry.” He had gone past the hyperventilation, the high pitch, to the deep quiet and undoubtedly tears. Streams of them.  
  
“Do you have water? Food?”  
  
“Water.”  
  
“Drink.” Roxas coughed in trying to swallow, and Axel gently coaxed him through it, to try again. They went back to counting until the operator gave a five minute estimate. Axel got to his feet, stretched, got his water bottle and an emesis bag out. “Are you going to throw up, Rox?”   
  
“I don’t know. Maybe.”   
  
“Are you sitting down?”   
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Get on all fours, then to your knees.” He waited and heard Roxas’s gasping and ruffling cloth. “Is there anything you can hold onto?”   
  
“The bar at the… the edge thing.”  
  
“You can either brace yourself on your hands or grab onto the bar. Get up on one knee, then pull or push yourself up. Hold onto the bar.” Roxas didn’t respond. He was saving his breath. “There are workers down here,” Axel said, as a group of people in neon yellow entered, all with big metal boxes, who glared at his defying the orange tape. He stayed, with his hand against the wall. “You’ll be okay, Rox. You’ll be okay,” he whispered.   
  
“I’m scared.”   
  
“You’ll be okay,” he repeated. A worker tapped him on the shoulder and gestured for him to move. “It’s almost over.”   
  
Roxas cried out as the elevator jerked, so loudly it could be heard without the phone. Axel kept himself just close enough that when Roxas tumbled out of the elevator, jellylegged and snow white, he could catch him. Roxas’s skin was so hot to the touch that Axel wanted to pull back, but he didn’t, stroking his hair as he threw up into the emesis bag. The workers had the decency to say nothing and walk on by, as Roxas’s vomiting turned to dry sobs, his forehead resting on Axel’s chest, the rest of his body as far away as it could be. Axel kept stroking his hair, waited until the sobbing had turned into messy breathing to usher him into a bathroom. He threw the bag away and helped unbutton Roxas’s shirt, soaked through with sweat at the underarms and chest. While Roxas rinsed his mouth out, time and time again, he took off his hoodie, and eventually helped him ease his arms into it, zipped it up to his collarbone. “Let’s get you to a doctor.”

* * *

The walk to the uni clinic was long and hard and silent after Axel called to make a crisis appointment. They skirted the edges of campus as to avoid people. Roxas was still pale and jittery, but he was getting more and more agitated, faster and faster. Axel fought the urge to take his hand, pull him back, slow him down. 

  
They stopped in front of the door. Roxas’s breathing had quickened just at the concept of going inside. Axel raised his hand, but didn’t touch him. “I’m fucking taking medication! Why can’t I--?”   
  
“You’re still adjusting to it, Roxas, and this was a shit situation.”   
  
“I noticed, thanks,” he snapped, and pushed Axel’s hand away. Silence, for a long while. People walked past them to the clinic. Roxas pushed Axel’s hair back from his shoulder and cupped the side of his neck. “I’m sorry. I...” Axel shook his head and threaded his fingers in with Roxas’s against his neck. “Thank you for coming and...” Axel kept shaking his head. They hugged, in an odd way, bodies opposed, not touching much but close where they did.   
  
The doctor was not ‘sympathetic’, but she was pragmatic. She opened all the windows as requested, and didn’t devalue his claustrophobia. She tutted at his vitals, wrote out two prescriptions with explanations aimed more at Axel than Roxas. They were both too tired to be annoyed at her misdirection.

  
“When is your next psychiatric appointment?”   
  
“Next week.”   
  
She folded the scripts and a brief letter into an envelope, which she had the decency to give to Roxas. “Here you go. Do you need an absence form, too?” she asked Axel. He nodded with a held-back sigh of relief. She printed yet another form, the printer chugging out an ugly tune. “Which teacher?”   
  
“Associate Professor Ansem Martin, M A R T I N.”  
  
“Do you live together?”   
  
Legalities aside, Axel said, “Yes.”

  
“And how long have the two of you been together?” Roxas looked at his hands. Axel looked at Roxas. The doctor’s pen scratched the page. It wasn’t clear whether she was asking for the paperwork or for interest, but still,  
  
“Four months,” said Axel, with just enough of a lilt to his voice that Roxas could stop him, correct him, something. He just nodded and hummed his agreement. “Yeah, four months.”   
  
The pen moved again.  
  
More routine questions, and a visit to the pharmacy – Axel went in so Roxas didn’t have to go inside – later they went home. They walked to the next suburb to catch a train that wouldn’t be too crowded. Roxas downed two pills, and only just refrained from falling asleep. Axel still stroked his hair and rested their heads together. Home was dark and cold, but Axel helped him to bed all the same and sat himself down on the couch to work. 

* * *

Roxas stumbled out of bed at eleven o’clock, drank a litre of water, ate half of a left over pizza, and showered, all without saying a word or even lifting his head. He curled into Axel’s side on the couch, an arm behind him and an arm around his waist. Axel didn’t say anything, just shifted to accommodate for him, turned the screen so Roxas could read on if he wished. He did, for a time, but gave up on realising the legal terminology Axel had taught him wasn’t anywhere near enough. He closed his eyes and felt Axel’s breath, if only to guide his own. “Are we gonna talk about this?” he whispered, sometime just past one in the morning. Axel’s typing had paused to a slow tapping, deleting the word ‘therefore’ and retyping it thrice.  
  
“Not now,” he whispered back. He moved closer all the same, and it only stung a little.  
  
“Right.” 

* * *

Axel had sticky-taped a note to Roxas’s hand before leaving, and though it took Roxas a solid ten minutes to feel capable of opening his eyes, let alone sit up without vomitting, he read it carefully:

 

 _Sorry to leave,. Have a pysch quiz. Text when you wake up + if you want me to come back between 11 and 3. Drugs are all popped on the table. Eat with the quetiapine. :) :)_   
  
_i’m awake. u okay?_

_quiz is done+assignment’s in so that’s cool. need me to come home?_

_no. thanks. i’m eating and i’ve dosed up._

_just go with it if you feel like you need to sleep. i’ll be home at six._

_have a good day x_

_you too x_

* * *

Roxas slept almost all day, and felt like he had nightmares, though he couldn’t remember them. He also couldn’t remember if they had both slept on the couch, and couldn’t bring himself to ask. After dinner they had a brief conversation that decided they’d drive to uni the next day – Roxas insisting on paying for petrol and the tax – and he’d stay back after his classes so they could drive back together. Being inside was hard. His fellow students glared when he opened the windows, but no-one stopped him. He was so, so relieved. Focusing was difficult, and he kept feeling as if he was on a boat in a storm, rocking on his feet. He followed the Doctor’s direction with absolute precision. He took risks with many things, but he couldn’t bear the thought of the terror of that panic attack reemerging. He couldn’t. He didn’t absorb anything he was taught, but he figured it was better to be there than not. He could sleep in the library in his break, he thought, fighting through a yawn.

* * *

“Axel. Wake up. Axel. Hey, you’ve got a tute in ten minutes.” 

  
“Time is it?”   
  
“It’s one fifty.”   
  
“Shit. Shit shit shit. I missed my lecture--”   
  
“I got Sora’s girlfriend to take notes for you. Come on.” 

* * *

He and Sora caught up in the three hours he had free. Sora didn’t understand Roxas’s claustrophobia, but he didn’t need to – he understood that his brother was hurting, and that was enough for him to know what to do. ‘What to do’ was ice cream and puns, but Roxas sometimes forgot how well they got along. “Birthday soon,” Sora said, through a mouthful of chocolate chips.   
  
“Oh yeah.”   
  
“You’re the only person I know who could legitimately forget that.” Roxas shrugged. “Are you all good for dinner at Mum and Dad’s?”   
  
“Yeah, of course I am.” He elbowed Sora, and was elbowed back so hard he dropped his ice cream. After a small bicker, Sora bought him a new ice cream, and started explaining his ideas for their party. “I won’t come to like a… party-party. I can’t.” The smile fell from Sora’s face, but he propped it back in place all the same.  
  
“That’s okay! We’ve got Mum and Dad’s, and you can bring Axel and I’ll bring Kai and Riku, and we can order sea salt ice cream en masse.”   
  
“And no-one but me will eat it because it’s the middle of Winter!”  
  
“I’m eating ice cream now!”  
  
“Because you don’t want me to feel weird.”   
  
“You are weird, I can’t change that.” Sora ruffled Roxas’s hair and stole a chocolate chip from the tip of his ice cream. “But seriously, we can just have like a nice, chill twenty-first.” Roxas shrugged. “We can see if Xion’s lying when she says she’s taller than us now.”   
  
“She is not!” Roxas said.  
  
“Of course she’s not, but she’ll be so pissed when she actually realises that.” They chuckled, and there was silence but for the linnetbirds and chatter and slurping of ice-creams. “How are you and Axel going?”   
  
Roxas chewed slowly, and melted ice cream trickled in portions down his throat. “Fine.”   
  
“Not good?”   
  
“No, we’re good!” He stared at his ice cream bowl, not quite sure how or when he’d managed to finish it. “We’re good. Just… I don’t know why we’re not together.”   
  
Sora scoffed. “You _are_ together.”   
  
“I mean, yeah, but every time I try to talk about it he shuts it down.”   
  
“How many times have you tried?” Sora asked.   
  
Roxas paused. “Once,” he said, after a moment’s contemplation.   
  
“Drama queen.” Sora leaned back on his chair, let his head loll back. “You haven’t fucked?”   
  
“We haven’t even kissed.” Roxas sighed.   
  
“But you want to?” Roxas didn’t bother answering him. “Invite him to our birthday.”   
  
“I’m not-- only if we’re… if we’ve talked about it beforehand.”   
  
“You’re a bore,” Sora said, and bumped his shoulder on Roxas’s. “Are you good to take Xion next weekend, though?”   
  
“Oh fuck.”   
  
“You forgot, didn’t you? If you’re not doing so good that’s fine, I’ll take her, but--”  
  
“No, no it’s fine, I bought her her own sheets with seashells on them.”   
  
“That’s super cute. Do you have two couches?”   
  
“Oh god.”   
  
“Looks like you’ll have to share.”  
  
“You are not a good person.”

* * *

Roxas went grocery shopping as soon as they were home. The linoleum and ceramic and greyscale made it easier to think. It was near-empty, for some reason or another, but he was grateful all the same. Sora was a provocateur for everything: good things, bad things, solar eclipses, mutinies. _Things._ But Roxas was sure Axel felt the same as he did. If nothing else, the song. Demyx’s song. Roxas wanted the moment, hearing that line and feeling Axel’s leg tangled in with his and slightly tipsy and so in love, to happen again and again and again. 

  
He bought a purple eyeliner, because it was pretty and on sale, and he figured Axel could make anything fit his aesthetic. He bought bubble gum to chew when he wasn’t coping with his anxiety. He bought milk and bread and butter and vegetables and packets of biscuits, and the very feeling of shopping for a household of two was one that he didn’t want to go without.

  
“Dinner’s on the stove,” Axel said as soon as Roxas came in, without looking up. He put the shopping down and glanced at the four pots on the stove, all full of something different.   
  
“You’ll make us both fat.” He started packing things up, and heard Axel stand to help. He didn’t pay much mind until he felt Axel’s hands on his waist, front pressing to back in an odd, clumsy, backwards hug.   
  
“And all the choirs of angels will sing,” Axel mumbled, his words rumbling in his chest through to Roxas’s back. Carefully, Roxas took Axel’s hands from his waist and held them both in his own, linked at his stomach.   
  
“What have you made?” Axel’s voice traveled between them as he gestured towards each pot, explained what was there and how many days lunch he could get out of it as well as dinner. Roxas chuckled in his arms.   


* * *

That night was a beautiful one. Roxas confiscated Axel’s laptop and hid it under his bed, to stop him working for just a while. After a brief but exhausting squabble at the bedroom door, they collapsed onto the couch to finish their dinner and watch horrible, horrible television. They were so entirely caught up in each other. Roxas tossed the purple eyeliner at Axel’s face, and though he was thrilled with it, the response wasn’t what Roxas has expected: Axel sat him down and did his makeup. It was an absolute mess, because no matter how competent Axel was, Roxas couldn’t stop laughing. He ended up with pink eyeshadow on his cheeks as well as his eyelids, purple eyeliner on his nose, pink lipstick on his cheek. In turn he did Axel’s, which wasn’t tainted with quite so much laughter, but by the fact that Roxas had no idea what he was doing. He ended up putting no effort in as he figured it would be more useful than actually trying, and covered Axel in purple and gold polka dots. They didn’t want to go to bed. That was really something, considering what they were both like with sleep. He wanted their laughter to work between their lips rather than just on them. But everything else was perfect. He wanted them to go back to the same bed. He wanted so much, and couldn’t give enough back for all he already been given by the man tangled with him.   


It was one am before they had set the couch up with sheets, Roxas had taken his meds, and they were both free of their retro makeup art. Axel wore too many pyjamas, in just as many odd mixes of fabrics and colours, then cocooned himself in even more blankets. Roxas lay above the sheets, and counted himself to sleep.

* * *

His phone rang him awake at two thirty-three in the morning. “Axel?” 

  
“Roxas.” He had only just gotten to sleep, and felt an anxious cloud burn in his chest.  
  
“You’re in the living room.” Axel hummed, and the lightness of his voice said he was okay. “Why are you calling me? You are in the living room, aren’t you? You haven’t snuck out and commit a robbery and been arrested and need me to bail you out? Because I’m comfy in bed right now.”   
  
Axel gasped, the little faux-offended gasp he performed so well. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t bail me out of jail.”   
  
“I can’t believe you got caught!” Roxas said, rolling onto his side. He could see the city lights from his window. “I mean fuck, what are you studying law for?”   
  
“No, no, I’m doing psych for the mind control. The law is a cover. Getting away with robbery was never in the plan.” It sounded far too much like an honestly confided secret, Roxas thought, and so put on the most conspiratorial voice he could, asked,  
  
“Are you getting caught deliberately?”   
  
Axel paused, exhaled heavily. “It’s a social experiment. Don’t tell anyone, though.” He could hear Axel’s voice quiet apart from the phone.  
  
He hummed, and they were both quiet for a little while. “While psychoanalysing us, can you turn the heater up?”   
  
“From my cell? God, that’s a tall order, Rox.” All the same, the shuffling and falling fabric made it clear Axel did as asked.  
  
“I’m an unreasonable person, what can I say?” Axel chuckled, and Roxas could hear his footsteps and the tap running a glass of water.   
  
“It’ll take a minute to get to your room,” he said after twenty seconds of Roxas keeping himself from getting up, going back to the couch. “Want me to open the door?” He sat on the edge of the bed, stared at the door.  
  
“Yeah.”

  
He heard Axel’s socked feet on the floor, and heard his hand on the doorknob. “Can we talk about this now?” Axel asked, quietly, carefully. Roxas got to his feet, and hung up. He heard the beeping from Axel’s phone.  
  
“Open the door,” he said, just as quietly, just as carefully.  
  
“So bossy,” Axel whined. Roxas heard him put the phone away. His heart pounded. It hurt. He _wanted_ so much. Axel’s hair was a mess, his hands were shaking, his eyes were shadowed with bruises, and he was magnificent. “I’m gonna kiss you. Yeah?”   
  
“Yeah.” 

* * *

“Your feet are so fucking huge.” Axel laughed against his neck, his hand trailing up and down the side of Roxas’s thigh.

  
“Your legs are so hairy.” Roxas snorted and smacked his shoulder gently. Axel kissed the edge of his jaw and his hand stilled. They kissed, slowly, carefully, hyper-aware of how new and fragile the way their lips were fitting together. They kissed and felt for a long time, Roxas on Axel’s chest. The blankets had to go so Roxas could breathe, so he promised to keep Axel warm instead.   
  
It was much earlier than either of them ever usually woke up, and the prospect of staying in bed all weekend – while impractical – seemed a perfectly valid choice. He counted the freckles on his neck. He kissed the scar at the curve of his shoulder. He licked his nose just to hear him shriek. He lay against him.  
  
Axel shifted to his side, ever so gently toppling Roxas off him. He made an aggrieved noise, and stubbornly gripped onto his shirt to pull him close. “No,” he whined. “Stay in bed.” Axel kissed him, damp lips clinging.  
  
“I’m getting your meds,” he whispered, lips still together. Roxas fell back onto the bed, heart beat too strong as Axel left, door creaking behind him and swinging slowly on its hinges. He stretched. On his own it was a fine-sized bed, but with two of them – one a giant, he thought – it was tiny. They could get a new bed, he figured, in time.  
  
He downed his meds with a mouthful of apple juice and pulled Axel in to hold him. “You’re a good boyfriend,” he said. It was a weak way of putting it but it was what he managed.   
  
“Boyfriend. Presumptuous, strong, I like it.”   
  
Roxas gaped at him. “’Presumptuous’!” He jabbed him in the ribs, making him gasp then kiss him silly.  
  
“You’re an idiot,” Axel said against Roxas’s lips. “Did you know you’re ticklish right here?” Roxas shrieked as Axel dug his fingers into his sides. They both ended up dangling half-off the bed, which was quite an easy feat considering the size, but Roxas still winced at the cold on his feet. “So much of our relationship consists of you swearing at me, you know that?” Axel pulled him back up onto the bed, into his arms, between his thighs.   
  
“Because so much of it is spent with you deserving to be sworn at!” he snapped, with very little heat. They laughed on each others’ mouths, just like Roxas had yearned for.   
  
“I’m so in love with you,” Axel whispered. He wasn’t asking for a response, Roxas could feel it. He knew that. He just wanted it to be heard.  
  
“Oh.” He thought it over, though he didn’t need to. Axel’s eyes were closed, he wasn’t asking for anything but what was already there in that moment. “Yeah. Yeah. Same.”  
  
He chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. “Narcissist.” Roxas felt confusion spill into him just as quickly as realisation came, and he kneed Axel’s thigh.  
  
“Shut up.”   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this four month 8-13 adventure, which was totally all posted at once! Totally. (I will in fact be uploading an epilogue but this is 'The End' of this claustrophobic cluster-fuck of fluff. The swearing wasn't necessary but I really wanted to keep the alliteration.)


	4. Epilogue

“How cute are you two?” Sora asked three days later at seven in the morning, waiting outside the intercity train station.  
  
“The cutest,” said Roxas, deadpan.   
  
“Absolutely adorable,” added Axel through a yawn. “Positively charming.” He pulled Roxas in a little closer. The jacket was almost large enough to do up around both of them.   
  
Sora took out his phone, clearly resigned against both of them. Axel kissed Roxas’s temple. “Xion will like you after a bit, but she’s… I dunno. She’s closed off at first, so don’t be hurt,” Roxas said. “It’s not a comment on your worth.”   
  
“She does the zombie thing,” Sora said absentmindedly.   
  
“The zombie thing?”   
  
“That you do. Because you’re anxious wrecks and want to know what’s going on before interacting with it.”  
  
Axel snorted.   
  
Roxas made a high-pitched, affronted noise. “I do not--”

“You do,” the other two said in unison.   
  
Axel peered down at Roxas on an odd angle, still holding him. “The only reason you didn’t ice me out entirely when we met was because you were hyperventilating.” He promptly received an elbow in the gut.  
  
Roxas cautiously detached himself from Axel when the train pulled in. The young splitting image of Roxas, ran towards him, dropping her bags in the process to throw her arms around him. Roxas was small. This girl was tiny, clinging to him and burying her face in his shoulder.   
  
Axel shook her hand and got a brief ‘hello’ from her, but that was the extent of their interaction until a solid half-way through breakfast, in which Sora stole food off Roxas’s plate. Roxas told Xion about the new bedsheets he had bought for her and that Axel was living with them and that yes, Axel was his boyfriend. Sora told her all about the student politics of the time and asked about her grades, trying to coax her into the conversation, but she kept glancing at Axel, as if his presence changed how she should exist in the world.  
  
“What’s that on your wrist, Xion?” asked Axel. For just a second, Roxas and Sora shared the terrified look that asked if she was self-harming. Instead, she very shyly proffered her arm to Axel over the table.   
  
“I want to get a tattoo,” she said quietly. “One of the girls in my dormitory says that you need to draw the tattoo you want on you every single day for at least a year to make sure that you like it enough to have it forever.” It was recognisable as simple lines for the ocean, sand beside, and stars and moon above, drawn in ballpoint pen that had bled into her skin.   
  
“Very smart advice.” Axel rolled his own sleeve up to the inside of his own wrist. “As soon as I turned eighteen I got this,” he said, indicating a raindrop. Roxas wanted to ask how on earth he’d hidden it for so long. “And I hadn’t even planned it, I just wanted a tattoo, and it was the middle of a drought, so I figured I may as well give the earth some rain. Now I just feel like I’m being rained on whenever I see it.”   
  
Xion giggled. “But it might be a teardrop!”  
  
“Isn’t that even worse? Crying all the time?”   
  
“No,” she said firmly. “Because it can cry for you when you can’t.”   
  
They were firm friends from that point on, Xion asking a hundred and one questions about what it was like to get a tattoo and if it made people not like you. Xion leaned up in her chair and Axel leaned down so they could be on eye-level with one another, and Roxas and Sora watched on in awe.

* * *

“What’s that bruise on your arm, Rox?” Sora asked. They were walking back to their apartment, all yawning to some extent or other.

Roxas jerked his thumb back at Axel. “He kicked me out of bed. Literally.” Both Xion and Sora looked affronted at this, and Axel raised his hands in defense.   
  
“Look, it’s too fucking small for him, let alone me.” While Sora disapproved of his swearing, he did chuckle, and shared a meaningful look with Roxas when they walked past a real-estate office.

The day passed without any real event but that Xion was there rather than not. Sora went to work. She helped do dishes, and talked about school, and helped Axel cook dinner, but the routine wasn’t really broken. “Is she hard of hearing?” Axel asked while she was showering.  
  
Roxas hummed and shook his head into the crook of Axel’s neck. “Doctors don’t think so. She’s just so… sensorily overwhelmed?” He glanced in a query of accuracy. Axel nodded. “That she can’t pick noises out properly unless she’s in a good headspace.”  
  
“Were you like that?”   
  
“No.” Roxas had developed a gentle fixation of Axel’s tattoo, tracing his veins with his fingertips, rubbing a thumb around its edge. “No, not nearly so badly. The predisposition to anxiety and… stuff, shows in all of us, but where Sora has managed to put all of his anxiety into being an overachiever, Xion is constantly terrified, and I’m… claustrophobic and socially awkward.”  
  
“What about your parents?”  
  
“They’re both fine.”  
  
“What happened?” Axel asked, and Roxas shrugged.  
  
“Nothing, as far as we can tell. Our parents were good. They blamed themselves, of course, as soon as any of us showed a problem. No significant traumas. The psychiatrist says it’s not her place, but a psychologist’s, but she wouldn’t even link mine to being gay. I was claustrophobic too young, and I got some homophobic harassment, but I never got locked in cupboards with ‘fag’ written on me or the such, I never felt trapped by it...” Axel pulled him into his lap, both of them on the floor. He kissed him in a line down his cheekbone to his lips. “I’m okay, babe.” Still, Roxas cuddled back against him. “If Xion’s hearing worsens or doesn’t improve within the year we’ll be taking her to a specialist.” Xion punctuated his words with her singing in the shower. She held pitch, though she was no great singer. “It’s probably just the same as me not liking small spaces, but even more inconvenient.” He kissed Axel’s tattoo, leaning over his wrist. “Now stop psychonalaysing us.”   
  
“I’m allowed to psychoanalyse my boyfriend,” Axel said, kissing his other cheekbone. “Aren’t I?” he asked, an afterthought of caution.  
  
“Yeah.” 

Xion came out of the shower with an oversized t-shirt and the type of ‘casual’ boxers that kids’ parents payed non-casual prices for, yawning widely but with a big smile. “Hey Xi?” Roxas said. His tone was controlled into steadiness, volume moderated. She heard him well, and skipped over to sit half-on Roxas, half-on Axel. “Do you think Mum and Dad would let you come back home with Sora and Axel and I for our birthday next week? For the actual Friday?”   
  
Axel put an arm around her to steady her, holding her in place on their laps.   
  
“Maybe?” she said cautiously. “I only missed three days this term because of...”   
  
“Yeah,” Roxas said gently, touching her arm. “Well, I’m gonna call them, if you do want to come.”   
  
“I really want to!” she said excitedly, bouncing slightly and making both men wince.   
  
“Good. Well, we have icecream and chocolate, so you two go fill up the biggest bowl for me, don’t risk having any yourselves, and I will call Mum.”   
  
Xion was so excitedly chattering that she didn’t hear the conversation that Axel did, where Roxas asked whether Xion was seeing a psychologist and/or psychiatrist on a regular basis, if the school was looking after her properly, if she’d had her hearing checked again. The ‘may Xion come to our birthday?’ topic only took thirty seconds to clarify. Xion ate almost as much ice cream as Roxas, which was really saying something.   
  
Despite all responsibility practices of ‘not eating sugar before bed’, they ate plenty of sugar before bed, and Roxas downed his pills without shame. Xion, on the other hand, skirted around taking hers, with cautious glances at Axel. His response was to open his drawer in the bathroom and making a show of popping two pills into his hand. She took hers with a tad bit more care, but at least without shame.  
  
“Which pills did you take?” Roxas asked once Xion was tucked in and they were both in bed with their laptops out. Axel hummed, a wordless question mark. “To make Xion more comfortable?”   
  
“My antidepressants.” He kept typing.   
  
“What?”  
  
He stopped typing. “I never hid it, Rox.”  
  
“You never told me.”   
  
“You didn’t need to know. I didn’t… I told you I get depressed.” Roxas wasn’t sure if anger or hurt or disappointment in himself was the dominant emotion. “That night we...” Axel swallowed audibly, and put his laptop to the side. “When we fell asleep on the couch.” He refused to make eye contact, so Roxas rolled onto his side and put a hand on Axel’s stomach. “You asked-- asked why we weren’t together?” He said it like a question, though Roxas knew it wasn’t.   
  
“I don’t remember that!”   
  
“It was like, five in the morning, I was just getting up to go to your bed and it woke you up. I didn’t realise you...” Axel covered his face with his hands. “I wasn’t sure you remembered.” He swallowed again, and Roxas could feel it under his hand. “But I...” His voice was cut off, throat tight, and Roxas realised he was on the verge of tears. “That’s why,” he choked out. “That’s why we weren’t together yet. Because I can’t--” A single sob broke out of him, and desperately Roxas placed his hand over Axel’s, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles. “I can’t _breathe_ when I’m like that.” Tears were slipping down his cheeks, slipping down his chin to his shirt. “And you don’t deserve that.” He gasped, chest wracking with it. “And neither do I. And I’m sorry that it hurt you.”   
  
Roxas was not good at comfort, but he pulled Axel’s hands away from his face and kissed his forehead and his cheeks, shushing him all the while and telling him it was okay. “You didn’t hurt me,” he said, again and again and again. “It’s all okay, baby.” Axel didn’t stop crying for what felt like a long time, and Roxas just held him because he wasn’t sure what else to do. He was angry he hadn’t noticed, that he’d been so self-absorbed in his anxiety that he hadn’t noticed that a man whom he _lived with_ and _loved_ was suffering so deeply.   
  
He knew Xion wouldn’t _mind_ being woken, nor hearing Axel’s distress, but Roxas still tried to keep the noise muffled. Eventually all the tears dried up and Roxas gently wiping his eyes and nose was enough for him to breath steady once more. There didn’t seem to be that same shame that Xion had felt earlier in the night, instead just discomfort. Newness. “Are they working?” Roxas asked, a change of shirt and three glasses of water later.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“The drugs. Are they working?"

Axel cautiously pulled Roxas to him, tucking him neatly into his side. Roxas shuffled himself around so he could hear Axel’s heartbeat, on his chest but just away from his heart. “I think so,” Axel said after a minute. “I don’t know if it’s that they’re working, I’m so much… happier--” he said the word like it was a profanity. “--with you, living with you, semester’s almost over, or a mix of all of them. But I’m getting better.”   
  
“Tell me what you need, baby,” Roxas whispered. “I’m here for you just as much you for me, you’re paying as much on bills and in household maintenance as I am in rent, you don’t have to keep... it doesn’t have to be all you.”  
  
“It’s not.” Axel tilted Roxas’s chin up with a fingertip. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” Roxas went bright red and forced himself not to cover his face. “Or how good you are?” They were close enough that their heartbeats melded. “That’s enough for me.”  
  
“It’s not enough for me. Not _from_ me,” Roxas said stubbornly. Axel sighed. “And that’s how it _should_ be.” He paused, and there didn’t seem to be anything right to say. “Get to sleep, yeah?”

* * *

“Xion,” Roxas called from the bed at ten the next day. “Xi _on_ ,” he whined. He had heard her waking, but she was still in her pyjamas and bleary eyed as she came in. “Xion, can you tell Axel we don’t need to live on campus?”  
  
Axel snorted and raised an eyebrow at her. Cautiously, she sat down next to Roxas and peered at his laptop. Almost fifty tabs of rental apartments were open, and the mouse was lagging from the stress of it. Axel, in turn, proffered his laptop to her, which only had two tabs open, both for places on campus. She raised her eyebrows right back at Axel, and he smirked. Roxas helped her up onto the bed beside them, and she sat with her legs crossed. “Why not campus?”   
  
“Because it’s so expensive, and everyone who lives on campus doesn’t have a life. They turn into zombies.”   
  
“You’re already a zombie!” Axel interjected. Roxas firmly ignored him, and looked down at the airbrushed photos on Axel’s lap, and said,  
  
“And I’d probably sleep through even more classes.”   
  
“But on the other hand, the library would be right next door, and if you _did_ sleep through part of a class, you could still get there for some of it.” The breadth of Axel’s grin made his argument seem very weak.  
  
Xion giggled. “I live ‘on campus’ and I don’t really like it, so I say not campus.” Axel glared at her, and she stuck her tongue out. “And if you spend less now you can save up for a house for when you’re married.”   
  
Both boys went red, not noticed by Xion, so Roxas hurriedly looked down at his laptop, just trying to be proud of Xion’s responsible spending rhetoric. “Look at this one! It has a bath _and_ a shower, and it’s right next to the light rail, which means no buses. And it looks vaguely Edwardian, so it fits a solid thirty percent of your wardrobe,” he said to Axel. “And it would only be sharing with two other people.”  
  
Roxas forcibly closed Axel’s laptop and put it to the side. They glared at each other.   
  
“Don’t you want to live on your own?” Xion asked, and Roxas nodded.   
  
“It’s more expensive to live on our own.”   
  
“But that’s part of why I want to live on campus, because we _have_ to have our own apartment because couples can’t live in the dorms.”   
  
They bickered in that fashion for a while, Xion clicking through Roxas’s open tabs and very quickly acquainting herself with the functions of real estate. Her mathematics was almost as good as Roxas’s, and she asked many a question about utilities bills, and what food actually cost, and ‘if you can buy a kilogram of rice for five dollars, why do you buy two-hundred-and-fifty grams of rice for two dollars every time you order takeout?’, which suitably shamed them both.   
  
Roxas and Axel played miniature thumb wars under the covers. If Axel’s admission to depression and slight breakdown weren’t enough to trigger a heightened sense of intimacy, Xion’s foresight to marriage was scary and romantic enough to do so. They all got out of bed eventually, when Xion had narrowed down their options to ten houses, and booked viewings for five of them. Roxas’s claustrophobia triggered itself – he had no idea why, and he couldn’t touch anyone for the rest of the day. He ended up sleeping on the floor next to the bed because he couldn’t stand touching Axel or being covered in blankets. Trying to hide that from Xion, a vulnerable, twelve-year-old girl who wanted to believe that Roxas was infallible, was rather difficult. Roxas wanted to keep being a hero to her, because Sora would never, ever _not_ be a hero. He didn’t want his claustrophobia to mean that she didn’t have someone to look up to. A slightly more vicious part of his mind said he didn’t want his _crazy_ to mean she didn’t respect him anymore. He stumbled into bed at three in the morning when it got too cold on the floor, upside down. Axel held his hand until he fell asleep, and whispered,  
  
“I love you.”

* * *

Despite being a tad nerve-wracking for Axel, and a tad awkward for Roxas, meeting his parents wasn’t so bad, ending semester _certainly_ wasn’t so bad, and moving into a very larger house with a much larger bed much closer to campus was most _definitely_ good. Their first real fight was, (in Roxas’s words) ‘a doozy’, and while the panic attacks continued, and continued to be doozies, they slowed down, which was a dawning comfort. It turned out that Axel’s tattoo had, indeed, been following Xion’s theory of crying for him even when he couldn’t. His depression did not abate, despite the new house, the new internship, the promises of a future together. Both of them fought against shame, and fear. Axel held his hand when Roxas couldn’t bear to be touched anywhere else, and counted new numbers. Roxas kissed his cheeks and nose and lips, and then let their lips catch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look this is legitimately just fluff, even more so than the preceding chapters, and I hope that's what's wanted. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading this prolonged, belated AkuRoku Day fic, mere weeks before I should start writing this year's.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! May we all bathe in Kingdom Hearts 3 when it comes (maybe even before AkuRoku Day next year. Scandalous.).


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